


Don’t need nothin’ to make me fall for you

by deirdre_c



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, And then they kiss, Jared's a freshman, Jensen's a senior, M/M, Oh and Chad contributes a love potion, fraternity rush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4757213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_c/pseuds/deirdre_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen’s sitting around dreading the end of his senior year. Or at least he had been, until this one freshman shows up to the rush party at Jensen’s fraternity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t need nothin’ to make me fall for you

The party is already hopping, overflowing the Chapter Room and out into the quad. It’s early, only about 9pm, but that happens during Rush, when the freshman need lots of time to browse around Greek Row and get acquainted with all the different fraternities. 

Jensen’s sitting up on the second floor balcony of the Sigma Phi Nu house, legs dangling over the open-air ledge, head leaning on the rails. His perch had a nice—but comfortably removed—view of the throng below. It’s a sea of ball caps and Sperry boatshoes, Red Solo cups and Lil Wayne blasting out of speakers wedged in the first floor windowsill. There’s a river of undergrads flowing by on the sidewalk out front, and uncertain little groups of three and four guys break away to wander up to their party. Each new frosh is greeted by someone from the Rush committee and absorbed into the crowd.

Jensen really ought to go down there and mingle, help his brothers sort out who might be good prospects for the year’s new pledge class. But Jensen’s a senior, and he’s currently feeling shitty about it. 

Ever since coming back from Winter Break, he’s been wrapped in a shroud of dread over graduation, watching the clock for the end of term ticking ominously down. Jensen fucking loves this school, loves his frat and his profs. Loves the library’s musty reading room and the cafeteria food and the undergrad section in the endzone at football games and Ultimate Frisbee on the lawn and the Wednesday night foreign film series at the Union. All of it to be left behind, and him left with just a diploma in hand and an uncertain future. 

Tonight he’s particularly melancholy, feeling one foot out the door already. Let the sophomores and juniors glad-hand the rushees. He’ll sit up here and enjoy another beer or four, thank you very much.

And that’s where Jensen stays. But only until about ten minutes later. Because that’s when he spots Jared Padalecki coming up the walk.

Jensen clambers gracelessly to his feet to try to get a better look, to make sure his eyes aren’t fooling him. But no, it’s Jared all right. Jared, the star student from his Medieval Lit course last semester. 

This was the second year in a row Jensen had been a TA in the English Department for Professor Kripke’s freshman writing seminar. He’d mostly been there to help with grading, but this past term Kripke had also delegated office hours to him. 

Jared had been Jensen’s only regular, showing up at the office door twice a week like clockwork. Not that the kid had needed any help at all: he’d read ahead on the syllabus the whole term, and his writing was—hard as this was to admit—just as lucid and well-researched as Jensen’s own. 

So the two of them had rarely spent time on Beowulf or The Decameron, and mostly sat around shooting the shit. Jensen wasn’t exactly sure why Jared kept coming by, but he hadn’t minded. In fact, just the opposite. Freshman or no, the more hours Jensen spent in Jared’s company, the more he’d wanted. He’d started to look forward to office hours over pretty much everything else in his week.

The only downside was how painfully hard it became to ignore how cute Jared was when he started gushing about some obscure band he was into, or how much Jensen wanted to circle around his desk and drop to his knees when Jared stutteringly admitted to coming out to his parents that summer before he left home.

The worst was when Kripke had asked Jensen to read an excerpt from _Tristan and Iseult_ in the original French during one class session. The look on Jared’s face as he’d listened to Jensen recite had—completely inappropriately but undeniably—leapt to #1 on Jensen’s spank bank list. 

But Jensen had kept any and all private fantasies thoroughly locked down. 

He’d been keenly aware of his responsibility as a TA, and besides, he’s not one of those creepy upperclassman who score with vulnerable freshman for sport. He’d been friendly to Jared, but professional, careful not to overstep any line. Their association had been above reproach.

But it’s been weeks since Jensen saw Jared last, since finals. And now, watching Jared drifting around awkwardly at the edge of the party, he realizes—all late-night fantasies aside—he’s _missed_ Jared. 

Jensen gallops down the stairs and pushes his way through the crowd in the Chapter Room and then outside. Luckily, Jared’s tall as fuck, and Jensen spots him right away. He’s been corralled by Malik, the Sig Phi rush chair, who’s talking to Jared while at the same time busily glancing around. 

The kid’s wearing a wool beanie and a long sleeve button-down paired with board shorts and flip-flops. It’s bizarre. He looks adorable. And the way his eyes light up when he spots Jensen makes Jensen’s stomach curl in a way it probably hasn’t since he was a freshman himself. 

“Hey,” Jensen says casually as soon as he’s near enough to be heard over the music, trying to disguise how out of breath he is. 

“Hey, Jensen,” Malik replies. “This is Jared, from San Antonio.”

“I know,” Jensen says, giving Jared a big grin. 

“Really? Great.” Malik’s already looking over his shoulder at the next group of prospects moseying up. “You want to show him around while I—“ He doesn’t even bother finishing that sentence before he’s off. 

That’s cool with Jensen. He turns to Jared, quirking one eyebrow up skeptically. “I thought you weren’t planning to rush?” He pitches his voice higher and adds an extra twang that Jared hasn’t yet managed to lose. “’Joining a frat is too expensive, Jensen. It’s not really my scene anyway.’”

Jared’s cheeks flush a ridiculous shade of pink, and he shifts from foot to foot. Jensen hasn’t seen him this nervous since the first day of classes. He probably shouldn’t tease him. 

Jensen’s hand twitches with the temptation to clap Jared on the shoulder reassuringly, but figures actually touching him would be a terrible idea. 

“Still not exactly sure about rushing,” Jared admits, sounding apologetic. “It’s just—you’re not TA’ing this term and I couldn’t think of another excuse to come and find you.”

“You what?” Why would Jared want to find him? Why would he need an excuse?

“You’ve gotta have figured out by now that I have a pretty massive crush on you.”

“You do?” Jensen says again like an idiot. Blindsided, that’s what he is. He’d been so busy with hiding his own improper urges, he hadn’t noticed anything similar going on with Jared.

Jared looks at the ground, then glances up at Jensen through his bangs. “Sorry. I just figured maybe since now that I’m not your student any more, you—I mean, we could—“ 

Just then, a solid mass of muscle pounces on Jensen and drapes himself across his back. “Jenny!” Amell lays a sloppy wet kiss on the side of Jensen’s head. He reeks of booze. “I see you’re looking to trade me in for a younger model.”

“Ugh. Get off me, you lunatic.”

Stephen had been Jensen’s freshman year roommate, and they’d hit it off from the moment they hung their dueling Texas and Canadian flags on the dorm room walls. Stephen didn’t blink twice when Jensen brought up that he’s gay that first day, and despite joining rival frats, they’d stayed pretty close all four years. Stephen’s a great friend, even if he and the crowd he runs with are too much on the dudebro side for Jensen’s tastes. Right now, though, his timing could not be worse.

“I can’t help be jealous, sweetheart,” Stephen continues, keeping one arm slung around Jensen’s neck and throwing a wink at Jared. “Look at those dreamy eyes!”

Jared, however, does not look amused, and so neither is Jensen. He shoves Stephen away, pointing him toward the Alpha Rho house next door. “You’re not funny, asshole. Get your back to your own rush party and leave us alone.” 

“Ohhh, _alone_ ,” Stephen croons, holding one hand over his heart in mock-pain as he backs away. “Now I really am jealous.”

Jensen huffs a grudging laugh, and turns to Jared. But to his surprise he finds Jared backing away as well. 

“I—um—I didn’t know you—“ His eyes flick to Stephen’s retreating form and back to Jensen. “I have to—“ Jared cocks his head vaguely back toward the central part of campus. “I have to head out. Be somewhere. I—um—I’ll see you around.”

And before Jensen can even summon up a word to stop him or explain, Jared turns tail and flees.

***

Jensen subsequently heads back upstairs to get fantastically drunk and, at first, resolves to march over to the freshman quad tomorrow to find Jared and straighten things out. He recalls Jared telling him he lives in Gilmore Hall. How hard could it be to track him down?

But lying in his bed later that night, watching the ceiling spin in the dark, he acknowledges that maybe it’s better this way. Better that Jared continue under the misperception that Jensen’s dating Stephen— _ha, as if_ —and go on his own way. Because Jensen’s almost 22 and Jared’s just a kid, barely turned 18. Well, last summer— _yes, he remembers Jared’s birthday, what of it?_ —but still, it’s generally accepted that seniors should leave the wee freshman alone. Especially ones who’ve just come out and maybe haven’t even had a boyfriend yet, maybe never fucked or even been kissed and— _oh Christ_ —Jensen’s getting hard just at the thought of someone— _him_ —carefully undressing Jared for the first time and laying him down, trembling, on one of these stupid skinny dorm beds, hovering over him, touching and licking every inch of unexplored territory on that long, lean body.

But worse than the age factor is that Jensen’s days are numbered. 84 left… 83 to be exact, since it’s past midnight now. Jensen’s graduating. Jensen’s leaving. What’s the point of starting up a relationship now? 

Because Jensen’s never been into casual hookups and god knows Jared’s no quick fuck anyway. Initiating this? He’d just be setting them both up for heartbreak at the end of the term. Saying goodbye to college is going to be hard enough for Jensen. And Jared, well, he doesn’t need encouragement from some jerk who’s just going to move on and disappear on him.

It’s better this way. 

Probably.

***

Jensen wakes up the next morning with barely enough time to eat two Advil and throw on a clean shirt before rolling out to his first class. Between a mighty hangover and Jared’s revelation from last night, the whole day goes by in a blur. He keeps thinking he sees Jared out of the corner of his eye, but it’s not him in the Union or the SocPsych Building or on the bench at the bus stop. And his resolve to keep Jared at a distance doesn’t stop Jensen from being disappointed each time.

Of course, the last place he expects to see Jared again is at the next Sigma Phi Nu rush party that night. 

But here he comes, stumbling along the sidewalk, a buddy in tow. Both of them have clearly been pre-gaming by the way they stagger and weave and laugh and, yep, the squinty blond kid is handing Jared a flask. 

Jensen’s looking down from his regular balcony spot as Jared throws his head back to take a swig. Their eyes meet. Jared waves happily, drunkenly. As if he hadn’t fled from Jensen like he had the plague just last night.

There’s no way this doesn’t end badly.

Jensen doesn’t hurry getting down to the party this time. But this time, when he gets there, he finds Jared inside the Chapter Room, surrounded by a bunch of brothers. Speight and Robbie, Matt and Gil, at least three or four of the sophomores, they’re all gathered around, talking up both Jared and his sidekick. 

Sterling is standing to the side, watching the group, and Jensen swats him on the arm to get his attention. “What’s up with all that?” he asks, pointing at the mob around Jared.

“That tall frosh with the long hair, his name’s Jared,” Sterling says. “Turns out his aunt is Kim Rhodes.” 

“Kim Rhodes?” Jensen echoes with surprise. “The founder of PeakNet?” 

“Yeah,” Sterling drawls. “I hadn’t heard anything about him before now, but word’s all over campus. Needless to say, all the frats are going to be gunning to pledge him. He’s a pretty big deal.” 

Jensen just nods and sidles back to lean against a quiet space along a nearby wall, not sure what to think. 

He’s a bit indignant on Jared’s behalf that this sudden attention he’s getting is simply because his aunt is a celebrity internet billionaire. He’s also a bit hurt Jared never mentioned it. But given the reaction of the guys—Jensen glances over as a roar of laughter emanates from the crowd around Jared—he can see why Jared kept it a secret. 

Then Jared himself appears abruptly in front of him, having escaped somehow from his group of new admirers. 

“Hey.” Jared’s eyes are glazed and heavy-lidded, his face glowing rosy-red. He makes a controlled fall next to Jensen, tilting his wobbling head so that it rests on the wall. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Jared,” Jensen says, steeling himself. Nothing has changed, this would still be a awful idea. Worse. What if Jared thinks Jensen’s only into him because he’d found out about Jared’s aunt? Jensen just needs to be chill. But Jared’s so hammered he looks like he’s about to pass out, and it has Jensen a little worried. “What’re you doing? I thought you told me awhile back that you weren’t much of a drinker.”

“Chad,” Jared slurs, jerking his chin toward the twerp who accompanied Jared, who’s still hanging out with some of the brothers, all now playing some drinking game involving cards and cups what appears to be a stuffed chicken. So much for the University’s rules about Dry Rush. “Lives on my hall. He’s had t’ listen to me talk about you all year. Told him ‘bout last night, so he mixed up some drink. ‘Granny Murray’s Bona Fide Love Tonic,’ he said.” Jared takes the flask out of his back pocket and waggles it under Jensen’s nose. “’Guaranteed to make Jensen fall for you,’ he said.” 

Jared cradles the flask against his chest and lets his eyes fall closed. “Is it working?” he mumbles.

 _Oh, it’s working_ , Jensen thinks bleakly. The tee Jared’s wearing is ripped and stretched at the collar and the sweat shines in the hollow of his throat like liquid candy. His mouth’s open slightly, lips lax and slick. It would be so easy just to lean in and kiss him.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Jensen says instead. Because he’s a goddamn idiot. “You’re just a freshman and I’m graduating soon and—” Jensen hunts for the right words, but they’re hard to come by with Jared right here in front of him. It made more sense in his head last night. “People get crushes on their TAs all the time, it’s nothing serious. I mean, if you keep looking you’ll find the right person soon. There are lots of cute gay guys on campus—” It practically chokes him to say it. Jensen can’t think of a single one who’s good enough for Jared. This is a disaster. “Listen, you should head back to your room. Sleep this off.”

Jared doesn’t respond for a long moment, and Jensen thinks maybe he actually did pass out. But then his eyes open and those lips of his press together in a thin line. He draws himself up to full height. 

“No, thanks,” Jared says, clipping his words more precisely than before, like he’s trying to sound more sober than he is. “I think I’m going to give this rush thing a try after all. Seems like a good time to check out some of the other frats, since I’m not welcome here.”

It feels like a punch in the gut, and Jensen gulps in a sharp, hurt breath. 

Jared turns and lurches away. He goes over to where Chad’s hanging out and whispers in his ear. Chad looks across the room at Jensen, and if squints could kill, Jensen would be a dead man right now.

He watches bleakly as some of the brothers try to persuade them to stick around, but Chad forges a path for Jared, the two of them winding their way through the mass of partiers and out the door.

Jensen’s half tempted to follow—at a discreet distance, of course—to keep an eye on them. Just because they’re so wasted, it’d be easy for them to wander into some serious trouble. Most of the other frats on campus are a lot wilder than the Sig Phis.

But Jensen’s made his empty bed and now he’s going to have to lie in it. He’s the one who chose to turn Jared down, he doesn’t get to meddle in his life now. 

He heads back toward the stairs. Tahmoh and a couple other guys are doing shots in the back hall, and they wave Jensen over. But he just tosses them a half-hearted salute and trudges up toward his room, determined to bury himself in the Org Theory reading due tomorrow. Determined not to think about Jared, drunk and disappointed, wandering around out there with only Chad to watch his back.

***

He knows there’s no way Jared’s showing up the next night, but that doesn’t stop Jensen from staking out a better location to watch for him. Out in front of the fraternity house there’s this wickedly cool angel oak with long sprawling limbs, the lowest of which skim the ground. You don’t even have to climb it, just sling a leg over one of the thick trailing branches like a bench.

Jensen stations himself in the notch of one branch closest to the sidewalk and leans back against the trunk. 

Among the crowd on Greek Row tonight there’s less wandering; most of the rushees know which frats they’re headed to by now. But Jensen still carefully eyes each group either sauntering by or turning in. Not that he knows what he’ll say to Jared if he manages to catch him. 

Someone comes up behind him and pokes him in the shoulder with a sharp finger. He wheels around and it’s Chad, Jared’s buddy. 

“Look,” the kid snaps, “the only fucking reason I’m here is because pretty much everyone on campus insists you’re a good guy, even though I personally would rather fucking feed you face-first to a shark, but I just want the J-Man to be happy, so you need to get off your ass and do something about the fucking mess next door. 

It takes Jensen a minute to process all that, but he catches up eventually. “Next door? What mess?”

“My boy is over there,” Chad jerks a thumb toward the A-Rho house, “with some asshole who’s swears he can hook Jay up with _you_ , but only if he agrees to pledge there. And Jay pretty much loathes A-Rho, but he’s fucking hung up on you enough to sell himself off. You know anything about that, Mr. TA?”

“No, I don’t,” Jensen replies, almost a growl, his vision going red at the thought. He leaps off the branch and strides toward the house next door, heedless of the danger of starting shit with a fratful of ‘roided jocks. Because although it’s possible that Chad’s misunderstood—or that he’s high, or both who knows— if someone’s bullying or pressuring Jared, Jensen’s not going to stand for it. He doesn’t care whose party he has to crash.

The A-Rho house has a giant old-fashioned porch that stretches across the entire front, white columns, the whole deal. Jensen’s chest tightens when he spots Jared standing at one end with Amell crowded up on him. He grits his teeth together and vaults up the front stairs, earning dirty looks from brothers and rushees alike as he pushes past. He reminds himself that Stephen is a friend, so that he doesn’t just walk up and clock the guy across the jaw.

“Jared,” he says as soon as he’s close enough, ignoring Stephen’s guilty expression when he catches sight of Jensen. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I need to tell you something.” He takes a deep breath and spills everything out in a flash-flood of words. “I’m totally into you. Last night I tried to tell you that I’m not, but I wasn’t being truthful. It was stupid, and I’m sorry for what I said. I’d really like to—like to hang out, or date, or be your—whatever. Be with you, I mean. If that’s what you want. Even if it’s only for the rest of the semester.”

He’s word-vomiting, he knows, probably making a huge fool of himself. But he suddenly feels desperate, almost despairing, worried that he’s too late. 

Jared’s eyes go as wide as saucers during Jensen’s speech, but once it’s over he doesn’t reply. He simply turns to Stephen and says dryly, “I don’t think I’m going to need that bid after all. But thanks.”

Stephen has sense enough to look embarrassed, and the good grace to apologize. “Sorry, man.” He nods to Jensen, “You too. There’s just—“ he glances over his shoulder toward a cluster of guys hanging around the front door. “—there’s a lot of pressure out there to bring Jared into the frat. It was a crappy thing for me to do, using Jensen as leverage. Really… I’m sorry. Hope I can make it up to you.”

“It’s cool,” Jared says easily. Such a goddamn boyscout.

“I’ll think about it,” Jensen grits out. “But you mess with Jared again and I’ll kick your ass up and down the whole damn campus. I don’t care what you bench press.” 

“Definitely.” Stephen extends his hand hopefully, and Jensen unbends enough to shake it. He’s starting to think he hasn’t ruined everything with Jared, starting to think Jared might give him a second chance. He doesn’t want to blow it now. Doesn’t want to do anything that might upset the kind spin of the karmic wheel that brought him here in time to fix the things he fucked up.

Together he and Jared turn to leave and they nearly run over Chad, lurking in the background. Jensen had forgotten he was even there. 

“Thank fuck we got that straightened out,” Chad says, throwing an arm companionably around both their shoulders as they make their way out. “All’s well that ends well and a bird in the hand and happily ever all that. You good, J-Man?”

“I’m good,” Jared replies, stifling a laugh. 

“Alrighty then. You two can do what you want, I need a drink. Wonder if anyone down there could use a little of Granny’s Tonic?”

Chad claps them each on the back and scurries off toward the Sig Phi house, leaving them to make their way together more slowly. 

Jensen throws Jared an astonished look that says, _Is that seriously your best friend?_

“I’m pretty sure he wants to join your frat,” Jared says, grinning. 

“Really?” Jensen watches Chad barrel his way back into the heart of the party next door. He shrugs. “Huh. I guess I can see it.” To be honest, he’s not really concerned with Chad’s future at the moment. “Um—what about you?”

Jared’s grin fades. “Still not sure fraternity life is for me.” 

”But not too expensive?” Jensen asks gently, as a way of signaling he knows the story of Jared’s family connection that’s floating around campus. 

Now Jared’s brow actually furrows, and Jensen immediately regrets saying anything. 

“Sorry,” Jared says, “I didn’t mean to be shifty. I just was hoping I could keep that connection quiet, let people get to know me as me. Whatever someone might think when they hear about PeakNet—that I’m some rich snob, or that I can get stuff for them from Aunt Kim—that’s not who I am.”

“I know,” Jensen insists swiftly. “I know, of course you’re not. You’re awesome. And besides, _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing. Still. Again.” 

They’ve reached the edges of the Sig Phi party and it hits Jensen that he doesn’t want to go in there right now. Doesn’t want to have to share Jared with a crowd of other guys. But he also isn’t sure about dragging Jared up to his room—yet, at least. He wants to move slow with Jared, make it right, not rushed. For Jared, everything should be perfect and romantic and…

He glances around, then takes Jared by the hand and draws him off of the sidewalk, ducking back along the tall, scraggly hedge that separates the Sig Phi house from the A-Rhos’. 

“Where are we going?” Jared asks, looking down at their clasped hands like it’s some kind of miracle. 

Jensen squeezes, reveling in the feel of Jared’s long fingers twined with his. “Somewhere we can talk.”

The backyard behind the frat house is a jumbled mess of ratty, ramshackle couches and a fire pit ringed by empty beer cans. There’s a half-hearted attempted at a sand pit for volleyball and this ridiculous iron statue of an alpaca, twice life-size, that Travis and A.J. welded together in some large-form art course last year. 

Most everyone is out front, but there are a handful of people milling around the tattered lawn, so Jensen keeps tugging at Jared, guiding him back to the low brick wall that separates their property from the stand of trees beyond. 

It’s dark back here beyond the ring of lights, and the sound of the music is muffled. The moon is full and it’s peeking in and out from behind scuttling clouds.

Jensen hops up to sit on the wall and glances as Jared, his cheekbones and brow carved by shadows, wisps of hair tugged around his face by the breeze. Jensen’s usually got pretty good game, but suddenly, at this particular moment, he’s tongue-tied. He scrambles to pick up the thread of their previous conversation. “So—uh—your buddy’s gonna pledge here. But that doesn’t make you want to?” 

“Nah,” Jared says, leaning a hip against the wall next to Jensen’s leg. “Because then we’d be brothers. And that would make this pretty incestuous.” Then suddenly he’s leaning in and his mouth is on Jensen’s, surprising, soft, sweet.

And Jensen can’t help it, he goes and laughs against Jared’s mouth. Not exactly the romantic moment he had planned. Relief’s made him giddy.

Jared jerks back, flustered, but Jensen’s got him. His hand circles Jared’s wrist, the other he brings up to gently cradle the back of Jared’s head to pull him back in. He brushes his lips lightly across Jared’s, once, twice, and then whispers over them. “Incest? _That’s_ your line? Kind of kinky, don’t you think? I didn’t expect that from such an innocent, harmless young man as you.” 

Jared’s adorably cross-eyes trying to get a look at him, but he doesn’t pull away again. “Oh. I was kind of hoping you could help me out with that,” he murmurs.

“With what?”

“The innocent part.” Even in the dimness, Jensen can see Jared’s face flush, but it doesn’t matter because he’s leaning in to Jensen again. Their kiss is longer this time, deeper. Jensen sinks his fingers into Jared’s hair and licks along the seam of his lips, and Jared opens to him, tentatively at first, but then eager, urgent, setting all of Jensen’s nerve endings alight at the first hot touch of his tongue. 

The taste of him’s more potent than any Love Potion. 

Jensen lets his legs fall open and shifts Jared in between them. Jared’s hands hover over the flats of Jensen’s thighs like he’s afraid to touch, and Jensen nearly laughs again. But instead he brings both his hands down over Jared’s to press his palms flat, feeling the heat of them through his jeans. He eases off of Jared’s mouth, but only so he can work his way around to nuzzle the soft skin below the bolt of his jaw. Jensen nips, just a little scrape of teeth. He feels Jared shiver, and feels his own dick twitch in response.

“Yeah,” Jensen breathes into Jared’s ear. “Yeah, I can help you with that.”

It’s going to be a pretty fantastic last semester after all.

**Author's Note:**

> A tried-and-true College AU. Written for the spnopera challenge, for the prompt of _The Elixir of Love (L'elisir d'amore)_ a comic opera by Donizetti. But you need not know a single thing about the opera! So many thanks to my lovely neros_violin for the beta assistance and all-around wonderfulness. Any remaining mistakes are mine.


End file.
